Arnold's St Patrick's Day
by Arnold's Love
Summary: "Hey, Arnoldo...you can't fix Eugene. He's just a klutz and that's that. So don't go getting any of your crazy football-headed, goody-two-shoes ideas."


"Arnold's St. Patrick's Day"

By: Arnold's Love

* * *

"Tomorrow's St. Patrick's Day!" Eugene exclaimed to his classmates who were hanging out on the monkey bars one day at recess. He rubbed his hands together enthusiastically. "Aren't you guys excited?"

"You mean because we get to wear green?" Nadine asked from behind her magnifying glass. She always carried it with her at recess. You never knew when there would be a new bug to identify. "Green is my favorite color. I usually wear the same color as the Guatemalan dragonfly."

Rhonda groaned and crossed her arms over-dramatically. "Ugh! I _hate_ St. Patrick's Day. I always get pinched nonstop the _entire_ day just because I _refuse_ to wear green." She tossed her dark locks with a sophisticated air. "Green is _so_ not my color. I'm a winter not a summer."

"Really, Rhonda?" Lila asked, putting an oh-so soft hand on Rhonda's shoulder. "I think you'd look just ever-so beautiful in a lovely pine shade."

"Oh, Lila, I wouldn't be caught _dead_ in pine green. It's just _so_ last season," Rhonda replied, her voice rising at the end of the sentence in a rather condescending way.

"Come on, you guys!" Sid exclaimed, rolling his eyes at Rhonda. "Everybody knows the best part of St. Patrick's Day is the corned beef and cabbage!" he cried, sounding just a tad too eager about corned beef.

"Yah, food!" Harold yelled. "That's my favorite part too!" He laughed loudly, causing Rhonda to put her hands over her ears.

"Cabbage gives me gas," Curly stated to no one in particular.

"Garwsh, you guys, I thought the best part of St. Patty's day was all the lemon puddin'," Stinky said, scratching his head in slight confusion. "I love lemon puddin'."

"Nobody eats lemon pudding on St. Patrick's Day, you social pariah," Helga scoffed, looking down at him vehemently through the monkey bars. "It's not even green."

"Well, golly, Helga, my family does." Then Stinky continued while rubbing his stomach in anticipation, "and it sure is good. And you could always add a tad of green food colorin' to make it green…if you wanted to."

Helga rolled her eyes before locking her legs around a bar and swinging backwards to hang upside down—all so she could be closer to her secret beloved and possibly smell his amazing shampoo.

"St. Patrick's Day isn't about the color green or the food!" Eugene gave another one of his contagious smiles as he jumped up on a nearby table to get the attention of the entire playground. "St. Patrick's Day is all about luck, don't you know? Especially if you're Irish, like me!"

"That's true! I done heard that from my grandpappy," Stinky replied, nodding in solemnity.

"Riiiight…" Helga smirked, doing a flip off the monkey bars and landing just below Arnold. "And I'll meet you on the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loc Lomond…ya bunch of saps." She watched as Eugene danced off to announce his impending luck to another group of students.

"You never know, Helga," Arnold retorted with a small smirk. "Maybe Eugene's right. Maybe St. Patrick's Day really _is_ lucky."

"And I'm a tiny leprechaun dancing a high-stepping jig," she huffed in return. Rolling her eyes she turned to Arnold, glaring up at him and poking him in the chest with her sharp fingernail. "Look, _Football Head_ , everyone knows there's no such thing as luck. Only buffoons, people in the loony bin, and _your_ grandma believe in that crap." She waved him off with a hand.

"I don't know Helga...obviously there's such thing as bad luck. I mean look at the guy—he's got bad luck in spades," Gerald remarked, as a kick ball pelted Eugene in the face knocking him into the school building. "If that's not proof that bad luck and jinxes exist then I don't know what is."

"He sure is the king of bad luck, ain't he?" Stinky agreed. "I almost feel sorry for the little fella."

"Yah, you guys remember the time he broke the roller coaster at Dino Land?" Sid laughed boisterously.

"Oh yah, and Arnold was stuck up there with him for like the whole day!" Stinky added.

"I don't know," Arnold finally spoke up. "I think he's just a bit…clumsy."

"Are you kidding, Arnold?" Harold practically yelled, "did you forget the time he was stuck up in the tree and then we got stuck up there with him too? How could you forget? I almost died! We had no food!"

"Not to mention the guy was _born_ on Friday the 13th. Mmm-mmm-mmm! Eugene has to be the most unlucky kid that ever lived," Gerald stated. "Urban legend worthy."

"While I don't usually believe in superstitions and misfortunes—" Phoebe began.

"Super-what-now?" Stinky asked.

"Superstitions and misfortunes—while I don't typically believe in such irrational fears, even I have to confess that Eugene does seem to have a certain ominous metaphoric 'rain cloud' following him around wherever he goes."

"Yes, he does, doesn't he," Arnold said, thoughtfully, an idea taking form in his football-shaped brain.

Helga looked down at him, eyeing him in suspicion. She knew him too well. "Hey, _Arnoldo_ ," she said, knocking on his head like it was a door. "You can't _fix_ Eugene. He's just a klutz and that's that. So don't go getting any of your crazy football-headed, goody-two-shoes ideas."

"Maybe you're right, Helga," Arnold said with a smile, pushing her hand from his head, unfazed. "Maybe there is no such thing as good or bad luck. But I have an idea that might just help him all the same."

Helga shook her head, crossed her arms and turned to look at Eugene as he suddenly became twisted up in the jump rope he was using. "Well, I think it's a lost cause," she stated as Mr. Simmons ran over to Eugene and frantically tried to help untangle him. "But, whatever floats your boat, _Football Head_."

Arnold smiled to himself as he watched Eugene recover from the latest incident with a super cheerful "I'm okay!" He'd see to it that Eugene had at least one lucky day. No matter what.

The bell rang, and all the kids got down from the monkey bars, and headed into the school. Helga watched as Arnold joined the rest of the kids, smiling and talking with them in his optimistic way.

"Arnold, what a dork, what a dweeb, what a dunder-headed do-gooder. How I despise him. And yet…"

She glanced back and forth across the playground to make sure all the other kids had headed inside the school building and tiptoed over to the dumpster. Who cared if the location was smelly and disgusting, at least she had her very much needed privacy. Leaning back against the dumpster she reached into her pink jumper and pulled out her precious locket.

"Oh, Arnold—my beloved!" she whispered to the little picture inside. "So noble, so kind, so benevolent! Always looking out for those unfortunate souls, cursed by fate to only be the clumsy jesters of life. The ones the rest of us scorn and mock and laugh at. But the ones that you—dear, sweet, altruistic you—chooses to care about and attempt to save in your own little do-goody—albeit usually misguided—way," she said, caressing the image of Arnold with her finger. "I wish you luck, my sweet prince, no matter how fruitless your endeavor may be," she sighed wistfully gazing at the photo of Arnold held inside her locket with care.

She froze for a split-second as a raspy breathing commenced behind her. It was no one important—just Brainy—the spikey-haired weirdo who always seemed to be hovering around her. She should really look into that, but at least he seemed to respect her secrets—whether or not he blatantly ignored her desire for privacy. Clenching a fist and scowling, Helga raised her fist up above her shoulder completely ending the raspy breathing with a resounding punch. Not even looking back, she stood up, dusted off her skirt and stashed her locket safely inside her jumper before stomping off to the classroom.

* * *

After school Arnold told his best friend, Gerald, he'd have to play basketball with him later…there was something important he had to do.

Practically racing through Hillwood's large city streets he headed to a patch of grass he knew well that was on the way home from school. He'd found it once when he had walked an amnesia-ridden Helga Pataki to school. Actually she'd found it when she'd noticed the daisies or "little suns" as she called them. It had actually been really sweet and poetic the way she'd seen it.

Either way, he knew that the little patch of grass had exactly what he needed that day growing there as well.

Once he found the little, lonely patch of grass he dropped to his knees in haste and began searching meticulously through the thick, grassy foliage in search of his goal. It took a little bit of time, but when he found it, he let out an excited, "yes!" and fist bumped the air before springing back to his feet. He raced away in the direction of Eugene's house, but this time with a bit more care and caution. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt his newly acquired precious cargo.

* * *

St. Patrick's Day came in on a beautiful golden sunrise, the light of which shown down through Arnold's skylight, waking him gently from his sleep. Rubbing his eyes groggily he looked over at his calendar and felt himself grin. Today was the day. Once and for all, Eugene was going to have his lucky day—a day to rival all lucky days, even if it was nothing more than a placebo effect from the gift Arnold has bestowed on him the afternoon before.

He hopped out his bed full of anticipation. It took him a while to find a shirt to wear, and he almost panicked when he couldn't find his blue hate, but after not too long he was heading downstairs humming a Dino Spumoni song to himself.

Pausing at the bottom of the stairs he felt himself grimace. He could smell his grandma's seafood stew. A meal that was very likely his least favorite ever. Arnold wasn't even sure if the meat she used could be considered fish. Cringing at the anticipation of eating the horrific (and often times burnt) stew he began tiptoeing towards the front the door.

He stiffened and jumped back when he heard an elderly voice shout, "where you going, sailor? It's breakfast time, come and get it!"

Much to his chagrin he had to sit and eat an entire, over-sized bowl of the gumbo and listen to the boarders argue and complain about it. When he was finally finished, he felt more than a little sick to his stomach, and walked outside to head to school. Having missed the bus, he figured he'd better get moving if he wanted to be on time to class.

As he was passing Mrs. Vitello's flower shop, he found himself suddenly drenched from head to toe with water. Cold and shivery in the chilly March morning he turned to see Mrs. Vitello, wide-eyed and shocked.

"Oh, Arnold, I am so sorry! I didn't see you there!" she cried, her raspy voice rising higher in pitch than normal. "Do you want to come inside the shop and dry off?"

Well, it was too late anyway, no reason to get upset with the little old lady for an accidental mishap, so he shrugged and held back another huge shiver. "It's okay, Mrs. Vitello. After a few run-ins with Helga Pataki I've started keeping an extra set of clothes in my locker at school. Don't worry about it." He waved bye and, fighting another wave of nausea, headed back toward the school.

After a long, freezing, wet walk full of fish-flavored burps, Arnold finally reached the entrance of PS 118, where Gerald stood waiting for him. "Mmm-mm-mmm, Arnold! What did Helga do to you this time?

Arnold shook his head, water droplet splattering every direction. "Nothing I—"

"Bucket on the top of a door?"

"No, Gerald, I—"

"Water bottle to the face?"

"No!" Arnold exclaimed, getting a little frustrated with Gerald interrupting him. "Helga didn't do anything. I haven't even seen her ye—" but this time he was cut off by someone bumping into him, sending him roughly into the nearby lockers. He rubbed his arm where it was now aching and looked up to see Helga glaring at him.

"Stay out of my way, geekbait!" she shouted. When she took in his appearance, a mischievous smile lit up her face. "Where's your green, huh, Football Head?"

Arnold grimaced and looked down at his clothes, realizing instantly that he had forgotten to wear green that morning. Looking back up at Helga, he saw her smirk widen and her hand already reaching for his arm. He tensed in anticipation.

"Well, you know what happens when you don't wear green on St. Patrick's Day…" she mocked, pinching his arm as hard as she possible could. "And there's more where that came from too!"

As she walked away laughing in her insufferable way, Arnold rubbing his two aching arms, and swallowed down another wave of nausea.

"That girl is no good," Gerald commented from beside him. "But she does have a point. Where is your green? You're asking for it by not wearing any."

Arnold shook his head in dejection. "I don't know how I could have forgotten. Anyway, I'm all wet because Mrs. Vitello squirted me with a hose on accident," he explained. "I've gotta hurry and change before the bell rings."

"I hope you have some green in your locker, otherwise you're in trouble, man!" Gerald called after him.

Before he could make it that far, he ran into Helga again and his other classmates. Her loud, coarse laughter echoed off the walls of the school. "Hey, Football Head, what happened to you, anyway? Did you take a bath in the river or something? You look like a drowned rat."

Of course, her loud mocking caught all of the other students' attention and they all surrounded Arnold snickering and making snide comments. Arnold felt his cheeks burn with an embarrassed and frustrated heat.

He breathed a sigh of relief, though, when the school's front door banged open loudly, redirecting their attention to none other than Eugene. He waltzed in looking quite the Dapper Dan in a brand new, outlandish outfit that literally seemed to sparkle and shine. He was wearing shiny, green dress shoes with matching knee-length striped socks and yellow knicker-style golf pants. A green vest was layered over a yellow button up. To finish off the look, a dark-green plaid beret sat on his curly red hair. Lovingly pinned to his vest was a large, freshly plucked four-leaf clover.

"Wow, Eugene," Rhonda gasped, " you—you look amazing!" Arnold raised his eyebrows in surprise at the true sincerity in the fashion queen's voice.

"Thanks, Rhonda," Eugene replied, stepping into the middle of their group, the pride he was feeling evident in his movements. "You forgot to wear green." He reached over and pinched Rhonda confidentially. Instead of getting mad, Rhonda just nodded slowly, looking entirely dazed.

"Garsh, Eugene, you look like a dang new person!" Stinky breathed as he took in the new outfit.

"I feel like a new person! This is the luckiest day I've ever had in my entire life! I woke up this morning and found this brand new outfit all laid out for me, then my mom made me my favorite thing for breakfast! I didn't even spill it on my lap like I usually do. Not to mention I made it to the bus on time!" Eugene exclaimed, his voice full of glee. "This clover is pure luck! It's the best gift I've ever received!"

Despite his current state, Arnold couldn't help but smile. The placebo effect sure was a powerful thing.

* * *

After changing into his extra outfit as quick as possible, Arnold sped to class and ran into Principal Wartz, getting a nice lecture on the importance of "not running like a wild heathen on school grounds." Not to mention the fact that Mr. Simmons accidentally slammed the classroom door in his face just as he arrived.

He slunk into his seat after a heartfelt apology from Mr. Simmons. His nose was smarting, not to mention he felt a bruise forming where Helga had pinched him. At least his stomach wasn't quite as upset as it had been earlier.

When Mr. Simmons announced that their research essays were due, Gerald leaned over to him. "You finish your essay, Arnold?"

Arnold smiled proudly, as he pulled out his essay to show Gerald. "I did! And I think it might be the best essay I've ever—"

But he was cut short as a gust of wind from the open window blew into the room and tore the essay from his hand. A few of the classmates tried to grab it, but it was soon lost to the world outside.

"Eugene, was that your essay?" Mr. Simmons asked.

"No, it was mine," Arnold offered, still staring at the window in shock. That essay was a quarter of his grade this semester.

"Yours?" Mr. Simmons voice rose in surprise.

"What a butterfinger," Helga snickered from the back of the classroom.

Arnold shot her an angry glare before turning back to face Mr. Simmons. "I have it on a flash drive in my locker, Mr. Simmons. Would it be alright if I go to the library really quick and print off a new one?"

"Of course, Arnold. Just hurry please, we're going to be talking about the Aztec civilization and I know you have a special interest in Central American culture."

Without even responding, Arnold was up and out of his chair. He ignored the mocking laughter of his classmates when he tripped over Phoebe's cumbersome backpack on his way out. He got to the library as quick as he could…which wasn't extremely quick considering he slipped on a freshly washed floor, got yelled at by a 6th grade teacher for running, and had the librarian run into him with her book cart (accidentally, of course.)

Once he was sitting behind a computer, flash drive plugged in and ready to go, he pulled up his essay and hit the print button. The first printed version was missing literally the entire left-hand side of the page, so he tossed it in the recycle bin, and tried printing again. This time it printed and was missing the entire right-hand side.

Arnold could slowly feel the intense frustration rising inside himself by each passing minute. Talk about a horrible day! So far this was turning out to be one of the worst days of his life. Second only to the day his parents left and never returned.

"Ms. O'Hare? The printer doesn't seem to be working properly," Arnold explained to the librarian, showing her the strange half-printed page it had spit out. "Do you know how to fix it?"

She peered over her glasses at the paper and shook her head after a moment. "Honestly, I've never seen anything like that before. Why don't you try unplugging it and plugging it back in to reset it. Then you can print again and hopefully it will work this time."

Tossing the reject paper in the recycle bin on his way, he headed over to the printer. The plug was way underneath the table and he bit his lip as he hit his head solidly on it as he went to climb under. He pulled the cord free from the wall and waited. He waited a full minute, counting slowly to sixty. He wasn't really sure why he did that, except that he'd heard once that it helped to wait that long when resetting internet modems. Then he reached and pushed the plug back into the wall.

A scream erupted from himself at the sudden feeling of fire that raced from his hands up his arms and into his head. Not even looking up from her book the librarian sent a harsh "shh!" across the room. When he reached up to feel his head, he realized his hair was singed and sticking up even more wonky than usual. Finally the realization hit him that he had been shocked and a horrible pain was weaving over his whole body.

With a dizzying sway he stood and stared at the printer. It was apparently as fried as he was. A gasp from behind startled him and he almost fell over, steadying himself with the printer table. The librarian had finally realized what had happened to Arnold and was staring in shock.

"Are you alright, young man?"

Arnold went to answer, but only a puff of smoke came out his mouth. He stared, wide-eyed at her and tried to walk over to her, stumbling into the book cart on his way. The other students sent "shh's" his way and he lamely apologized while trying to get to his feet. The librarian rushed over to help him and she quietly led him to the nurse's office.

After the nurse bandaged his hand and checked all his vitals, he left her office to head back to class. By this early point in the day Arnold was beginning to feel extremely miserable and bordering on pathetic. He stared glumly at the floor, squeezing his flash drive angrily.

Bumping into something else at this point hardly phased him. He only noticed because it spoke to him.

"Arnold, what happened to you?!"

He glanced up to see his classmate Lorenzo, who was staring at him in horror.

"The printer in the library zapped me. But I'm okay," Arnold explained, trying his best to not sound as rattled as he felt by the whole thing—make that the _whole_ day.

"What were you doing in the library? Shouldn't you be in class?"

"Well, my essay flew out the window, so Mr. Simmons let me go to the library to print a new one…but now I can't because the printer is broken."

"Oh, well, why don't you use the one I have in my locker? That way you can still get full credit on your essay? I got here late today and haven't reached the class yet, so I have time to help you. Come on." Lorenzo led Arnold to his locker, opening it to reveal his high-tech business printer.

Still a bit wary from his recent experiences with electricity, Arnold reached up with great caution and popped the flash drive in and waited for his files to load. He didn't wait long, the second he plugged the thing in, Lorenzo's entire computer/printer system sparked and then frizzed right out.

"Holy cow! What happened?"

"I'm so so sorry, Lorenzo! I don't know what's wrong with me today, I just seem to be having _really_ bad luck."

"It's okay, Arnold. It's not your fault. Maybe you had a bit of an electrical surge still in your system," Lorenzo teased, trying to lighten the mood, but failing miserably. "Or maybe Eugene has rubbed off on you."

Being compared to Eugene startled Arnold. He'd never had so many bad things happen to him—and definitely never enough to be compared to Eugene Holowitz!

"I need to call my mom and let her know what happened. And you'd better get to class, Arnold," Lorenzo said, taking out his cell phone.

Waving to Lorenzo, Arnold turned towards the classroom. As he entered everyone looked up and stared in alarm.

"Ar-Arnold," Mr. Simmons breathed, approaching the doorway where Arnold stood standing. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"

Arnold looked back at the wide-eyed expressions of his classmates and faked a smile. Optimism in the face of tragedy, right? "Yes. I just had a slight computer…mishap."

He stepped inside, but just as he left the door frame, the clock above his head started to fall just as Mr. Simmons stepped over to him. Eugene bounded up out of his seat in no time at all and shoved Mr. Simmons out of the way, effectively saving him as the clock came crashing down.

"Eugene! You saved my life! Thank you!" Mr. Simmons exclaimed, thoroughly as shocked as everyone else that it was _Eugene_ who had sprang so heroically from his desk to push Mr. Simmons out of the way.

The class broke into cheers and celebrated while a very _fried_ Arnold watched the commotion and Helga leaned back in her seat thoughtfully.

Arnold was having what seemed like a very long list of " _mishaps"_ all day—none of which were pranks that she, herself, had set up for him. And all the while Eugene seemed to be having the best day of his—or anyone else's—life? Something was definitely not kosher.

She opened her textbook and stared at her mini Arnold shrine hidden within its pages. "Oh, Arnold," she mused, "what did you do?

* * *

By the time lunch rolled around Helga was starting to think that Arnold was the new jinx of the school. Something about that didn't bode well with her. It was unacceptable that the love her life, the flaxen-haired muse of her dreams, her knight in golden armor, should suffer by any means (except her own of course). One way or another, she was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if she had to pick a bone with the universe itself.

At lunch, Eugene was in the front of the lunch line. They were serving his favorite meal, and not only that, but the lunch-lady had pulled out the biggest piece of chocolate cake that Helga had ever seen and handed it to Eugene without dropping a single crumb. When Arnold's turn came the lunch-lady handed him a dry, burnt looking piece and Arnold stared at it glumly before turning to go to sit down. Helga cringed inwardly when she saw Harold's fat hunk of a foot shoot out, tripping Arnold just as he had moved to step forward.

Poor Arnold's tray landed first, his flood splattering up toward him, followed by Arnold landing face first into the tray for a slimy double whammy. If Arnold's day hadn't been so pathetic so far, Helga would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all, but as it were, she could only blink in shock. Arnold lifted his face up, food covering almost every inch of him and oozing from his face, dripping onto his saturated shirt.

"Oh, looook, poow Awnold spilled his wittle baby food all over his tiny-winy clothsie-woesies. Hahahahahaha!" Harold mocked, pointing and laughing in his grotesquely obnoxious way.

"Yah! He even done got some of that cake there on top of his wee little hat," Stickly snorted right along with Harold as Arnold bent down to pick up his tray, his face a red sheet, and his jaw clenching tightly.

"Oh, man, Arnold," Sid said mid-laugh, "you should really see yourself! You look totally wicked!"

Arnold glared at the three buffoons before tossing his tray into the tray deposit. He ignored the extra splattering of food it caused, and spun around furiously to face them. "Don't you think I already know that?" he snapped angrily, before marching out down the hall.

Talk about the worst day ever! Arnold paused in the hallway and stared down at his food-covered clothing. His only option now was to change back into the wet outfit from earlier and hope it was at least a little dryer than before. _Could this day get any worse?_ He thought as he walked into the boy's locker room.

 _Apparently it can_ , he thought as Wolfgang stomped out of one of the stalls, giving him a frighteningly demonic smile when he spotted Arnold. Arnold spun around to bolt, but Wolfgang caught him by the collar of his shirt.

"Not so fast, dumb fourth grader. Let's play," he sneered, dragging Arnold over to the sink and turning on the water. "Wanna go swimming?" he laughed mockingly before sticking Arnold's face into the water and holding his head there for a few moments.

Sputtering Arnold tried to push away as Wolfgang prepared to shove his face in the water again. But just as he was about to, the sound of the bathroom door opening made him pause and glance around. Principal Wartz's voice echoed off the bathroom walls. Wolfgang hastily let go of Arnold's shirt and Arnold booked it out as fast as he could out the door and away from Wolfgang.

Arnold glanced around looking for Principal Wartz and hoping for safety plowing right into Helga G. Pataki instead.

Arnold didn't know, but Helga had heard Wolfgang bullying Arnold and had opened the door and used her best impersonation of Principal Wartz to hopefully scare Wolfgang off. She smiled. It seemed like it worked since it was only Arnold who had plowed right into her.

"Hey, watch where you're going, bucko!" she yelled, deciding to appear unaffected by the drenched and slightly blue-face of Arnold. His voice was completely void of its usual happiness and sparkle as well. His jellybean green eyes were large and watery and Helga realized that Arnold was about to cry.

Arnold squeeze his eyes closed tightly, trying his best to hold back his tears. He would _not_ cry in front of Helga. No matter how upset he was—no matter how downright _horrific_ this day had been, he would _not_ cry in front of Helga G. Pataki. He glanced away from her, focusing on a nearby row of lockers, trying his best to regain his composure.

"Arnold, are you okay?" she asked, and the sincerity in her voice surprised him so much he glanced back up to her face.

He shook his head and answered flatly, "no."

"What's wrong?" Helga asked, even though she knew.

"Everything," Arnold breathed, closing his eyes again for a moment. "This has been the most horrible day. I keep thinking it's gotta be a fluke and it's going to improve, but instead it just keeps getting worse and worse!" It seemed the floodgates had been opened and Arnold was suddenly spilling out his entire day of horrors to Helga. And he couldn't stop himself even if he had wanted to. It felt good to just let it all out. "First, this morning, as I was coming to school today Mrs. Vitello accidentally squirted me with her hose. And then my essay flew out the window and when I went to the library to print a new one I got electrocuted. So I ran into Lorenzo in the hall and he let me use his printer…only it fritzed out his computer, and his printer as well, when I plugged it in my flash drive. Then just now Harold tripped me, I got covered in my lunch and when I went to clean up Wolfgang found me and started sticking my head under the water. And that's only like half of it!"

"Crimeny, Football Head!"

"I know! And I don't understand. It's like I'm cursed. Yesterday was perfect! It was a normal day like any other and on the way home I even found a four-leaf clover in just a few minutes." Arnold paused. "You'd think finding a four-leaf clover would bring me luck." Helga's skeptical expression made him fake a laugh. "If that sort of thing was real, of course."

"Right," Helga said slowly. "And do you still have this…clover?"

"Well, no," Arnold answered with a shrug. "I gave it to Eugene. He was so excited about St. Patrick's Day I just wanted to kind of give him a little placebo push for luck, you know?"

Helga shook her head. "I told you, you couldn't help the jinx, didn't it?"

Arnold shrugged. "Well, sure, but did you see Eugene today? I think it worked—he's had so many good things happen to him today!" Arnold's eyes grew wide as a thought hit him hard—like a snowplow pummeling snow. "What if when I gave him the clover…I also gave him my luck?" Sheer, unbridled terror clenched his heart at that moment and he couldn't help but reach out and grab Helga's collar tightly in his fists.

"Wait, what?"

"No, really! What if I'm the new jinx now and Eugene has all my luck?" He face went white. "I can't live like this, Helga!" he cried, clutching her shirt even tighter.

"Whoa, calm down, Football Head," Helga replied, pulling his hands away from her. "If there's one thing I know it's that there's no such thing as voodoo, or magic, or fate, or _luck_. Just simple grape soda and ginseng for flavor."

"What? What are you even talking about?" Arnold exclaimed, clearly losing his mind from his run of bad luck.

"Never mind. Look, Arnold, it's just a fluke. I'll prove it to you," Helga stated. It was obvious to her now that Arnold was unfit to handle this himself. She'd have to take the matter into her own hands. "Mark my words, your _'luck'_ will be back before you know it."

"How?"

"You just keep out of trouble…or you know, at least try to keep your mishaps to a safe minimum." Though by the way Arnold was twitching and looking around in panic, they may have passed that quota hours ago.

* * *

Helga had never really paid much attention to the little red-headed goofball Eugene before. Besides enough to laugh at him when something hilarious went wrong. But if she was going to help her beloved, she'd have to get to know Eugene on a much deeper level.

After following him for an hour…Helga had to admit that all the good things that kept happening to him were definitely a bit… _surprising_ to say the least. Similarly, it was shocking how many bad things continued to happen to Arnold. Every door he walked through managed to smack him in the face, every person he passed pumped into him as if they didn't even see him. At recess he got stung in the face by a nest of hornets, he fell off the monkey bars, and when he went to work on a math problem back in class, the entire chalkboard almost fell off the wall onto him.

Frankly, Helga was starting to believe that this was more than just a grape soda and ginseng thing.

It was also becoming apparent to her that her usual stealth wasn't enough. For the life of her she could not get that blasted four-leaf cover from off of Eugene's shirt. She was running out of time, she realized, as she glanced at the clock and saw she only had half an hour before class was over.

It was now or never.

While Mr. Simmons was busy writing on the chalkboard, she popped her chewing gum out of her mouth and arranged it just so on her pencil. Then she nonchalantly walked by Eugene's seat, dropping her pencil accidently under his chair. Bending down she tried to snake her hand up without him noticing hoping to get the little clover stuck to the wad of gum. She'd almost gotten it when she sneezed and Eugene stared down at her. She grinned awkwardly—caught with her arm up between his and the pencil with its lovely wad of gum pointing right up at him.

"This yours?" she asked, gesturing to the gum on the pencil.

He grimaced and shook his head. "Uh, no." And with that he pushed her away. "Mr. Simmons can I use the bathroom?"

"Sure, Eugene."

As Eugene skipped off to the bathroom Helga had an idea. Once he was out the door Helga walked up to Mr. Simmons herself. "Mr. Simmons, can I use the bathroom."

"Helga, why don't you wait until Eugene comes back?"

"Mr. Simmons, I don't think I can wait. Remember that… _thing_ my mom talked to you about?" Even though she hated to remind _anyone_ of her…well, her constipation problems, it had to be done to right this wrong that had been done to her sweet Arnold.

Mr. Simmon's smile fell and he nodded. "Well, alright, Helga. If you feel you need to go, go ahead."

After getting outside the classroom she glanced around and spotted Eugene. Hiding around a corner she waited, counting slowly, timing it just right before stepping out ready to bump into him. Somehow the little punk managed to dodge her at just the last second and she tripped and slid onto the floor. furiously she growled and pounded the floor.

Back in the classroom she glanced at the clock. She had ten minutes left. _Ten!_

"Pheebs! Psst!"

"What?" Phoebe whispered back.

"Switch seats with me," Helga whispered.

"Well, I don't really see why that would be necessary, but—"

Helga resisted the urge to slam a fist onto her desk. " _Just do it!_ "

"Okay, Helga," Phoebe replied, her voice sounding slightly offended.

Helga didn't have time to worry about that though. As discreetly as possible, Helga and Phoebe switched seats making it so Helga was that much closer to Eugene.

"Lila! Hey, Lila," Helga whispered, tugging on Lila's blouse.

"Whatever can I do for you, Helga? I'm ever-so certain we are supposed to be working on our assignments."

"Yah, yah. But switch seats with me. Just for a second."

"Well, alright, Helga," Lila said slowly in her ever-too sweet voice. "If it's that important to you—" But Helga had already pushed her out of the seat and taken it.

 _One more to go…_

"Hey, Sid…remember that thing I know about you?"

Sid glared at Helga. "What thing?"

Helga smiled evilly. "Oh, you know the thing. The one you don't want any one to know about you that involves piñatas…"

"You wouldn't!" Sid gasped, glancing back and forth to make sure no one was listening.

"I would. But…I might be willing to forget about it if you switch me seats right now and don't ask questions."

"Is this a trick?"

"No, you dimwit, just switch me seats!" Helga growled at him.

He jumped up immediately and switched seats with her. Now she was behind Eugene. She waited and watched the clock, waiting for just the right—

 _Riiiing!_

All the kids excitedly jumped up ready to rush out of the school doors—including Helga, who jumped up the fastest of all, practically hugged Eugene in her attempt to grab his clover. Having success she shoved it rapidly into her jumper. "Sorry about bumping you Eugene."

Eugene raised an eyebrow. "Look, Helga. I'm well aware that this suit is really snazzy and that my sudden change of luck thanks to St. Patrick's Day is quite appealing, but I'm not interested."

Helga scrunched up her eyebrow. "I'm sorry…what?"

"Look, Helga," Eugene continued, "I can tell you've developed a sort of thing for me—"

"WHAT?"

"—and I just wanted to tell you right away that I'm really not interested. Have a nice day, Helga. I hope I didn't hurt your feelings too badly." With that Eugene waltzed off, never realizing that his clover was missing and hidden safely in the jumper of the completely shocked Helga G. Pataki.

When she had recovered from her absolute horror, s reached into her jumper and pulled out the evil little clover that had brought so much pain to Arnold. Without a second pause she ripped the little thing into shreds. Re-ripping each piece multiple times until nothing but a pile of wilted flakes was left in her hands. Shoving it into her pocket she headed towards Arnold's house to show him how she'd saved his luck.

* * *

She found him outside of the boarding house talking to Gerald. "Arnold!" she called, trying to get his attention.

"Oh, hi, Helga," he greeted, looking much more fresh than he had earlier. His clothes were new and clean and his hair had been combed and mended a bit. "Look what I just found in the basement? A ten dollar bill! Gerald and I were going to head to Slausen's to get an ice cream, do you want to come with us? My treat?" He ignored Gerald's look of pure shock at the invitation and continued smiling at Helga.

"Wha-what about your bad luck?" Helga asked, fingering the tiny pieces that remained from the clover in her pocket—trying not to smile proudly at the fact that already he seemed to have his good luck back, thanks to her efforts.

I guess it was just a regular old bad day after all," he replied, smiling at her again as he hopped down the stoop to stand by her. "So are you coming?"

"Yah, I guess so, Football Head," she said, deciding not to tell him what resided in her pocket. "You know, since I don't have anything better to do and you're paying and all."

"Right, Helga," Arnold replied with a small eye roll as he and Gerald began walking toward Slausen's.

Helga smiled as she watched them, waiting just a moment before she joining them. She felt pretty proud of herself for saving the love of her life from an eternity of bad luck. Of course, maybe Arnold was right, maybe it was just a bad day and the four-leaf clover was just that—a little, uniquely leafed plant and nothing more.

"Luck-smuck," she mumbled under her breath as she started walking to catch up. But then she felt something land on her shoulder and looked over to see what it was. "Pigeon crap. YUCK!"

* * *

Authors Note:

Hey guys! Happy St. Patrick's Day!

I hope you liked this fun holiday story! It's literally been in my head since last St. Patrick's day so I'm so excited I finally got to post it! I hope it felt like a true episode of HA! Because that's what I was going for!

HUGE shout out to Mony who I commissioned the wonderful cover lineart from! I love her stuff, guys! She's awesome! And shout out to Marie Allen and Turchino Rain and Polkahotness for encouraging and helping me so I actually finished this story!

A few funny snippets. Numero Uno: I actually really love St. Patrick's day. I do! For all the reasons Eugene's classmates listed. As a young college student back in the olden days of 2006 a well-known Christian artist came to our school during an art show thingy-ma-bob on St. Patrick's Day. You can google him, he really is famous—Greg Olsen. Anyway, I was talking to his son (I was kind of this bubbly, crazy social butterfly with no fear back then (literally the opposite of what I am now)) and I look over at Greg (we're on first name basis…haha not really) and I was like, "Uh-oh, you didn't wear green! And it's St. Patrick's Day!" and he kind of just looked at me weirdly and so I pinched him. Yah, I'd never do that now in a million years, but still it's awesome to say I pinched the famous artist Greg Olsen. Basically I was a cool college student. Now I'm just a nerd who writes fanfiction in her PJs.

Fun snippet numero dos: The whole printer fiasco of Arnold's was inspired by one of my husband's co-workers. The man is a true, real-life adult Eugene. Some of the stories my husband tells me—I tell ya! Crazy! One day he came home and told me about how this guy—whose name is Ike—needed to print something and went to his truck to print it…well the second he plugged in his handheld computer his printer just sort of shorts out. So Ike goes to my husband and asks to use his printer. So they hook it up to my husband's printer…which also fritzes off. So they go to my husband's _backup_ printer…it fritzes off and then Ike's handheld shorts out. I mean it was much funnier to hear from my husband, but it was like the saddest story ever. But stuff like that happens to this guy all the time! It's really kind of sad in a funny Eugene-like way.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed this! I LOVED writing it! It was a blast! Now back to "The Shadow Around His Heart" and "No Competition"! Thanks for your patience, guys!

Love,

Arnold's Love


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